**Chapter 10: Debut Race**
Kitano's hands were clammy, his palms damp with nerves.
The tie around his neck felt like a noose, squeezing the air from his lungs.
As a veterinarian, he rarely had to dress up like this—suits and ties were for other people's lives, not his.
"North Road Falling Snow takes the lead in the Sixth Division! Christellena's falling behind!"
"In one push, he's opened a three-length gap! North Road Falling Snow surges ahead!"
"What a clean win!"
Snowflake-shaped betting slips fluttered through the air, mingling with the white sand of the track, creating a fleeting illusion of winter in the middle of the day.
Kitano swallowed hard, his dress shirt clinging to his sweat-soaked back beneath his dark suit.
The next race was Medaima's.
"Don't worry, Mr. Kitano. Pegasus is gonna be just fine!"
Ogawa Masaru, the ranch rep, tried to sound reassuring, but his voice betrayed a slight shake.
Kitano gave a quiet nod.
It was time.
He headed toward the viewing area.
The path was quiet, save for a few stable hands leading horses. Most owners didn't bother showing up in person—too much hassle.
A couple of local reporters lingered by the railing, throwing curious glances his way.
Kitano took the race form from a staff member with a quick "thanks" and stationed himself near the prep room exit.
Soon, the jockeys emerged, stretching and loosening up.
Ochiai spotted Pegasus instantly, the horse's gray coat standing out among the others.
With a light hop, he swung into the saddle.
"This guy was a bit of a handful when he first got here," Kobayashi, the stable hand holding the lead rope, said with a grin, patting the horse's head. "But today? Calm as can be, like he knows it's race day."
"He's in great shape."
They'd been warned by the farm that Pegasus could be sensitive to the buzz of competition, so they'd fitted him with green earmuffs to keep him steady.
"Got it," Ochiai said, giving a small nod from the saddle, his movements precise and minimal.
Kobayashi led Pegasus in a slow circle for the pre-race review.
For his first race, the horse was remarkably relaxed, even tilting his head curiously toward a camera as they passed the press area.
A reporter snapped a flurry of photos, smiling at the screen. "Might not make the article, but it's a keeper."
Kitano caught Ochiai's eye as they passed and gave a deep, formal bow to the jockey in his yellow-and-black silks.
Ochiai paused, then returned a slight nod before Kitano's figure faded behind him.
Taking a deep breath, Ochiai tucked his whip under his arm and steered toward the starting gate.
Pegasus, who'd been playfully tossing his head, turned serious the moment they entered the gate.
Ochiai tightened his thighs, adjusting his posture.
The final horse slotted into place.
In the stands, Kitano and Ogawa held their breath in unison.
The gate flew open, and Pegasus surged forward.
His balance dipped slightly, but Ochiai corrected it in an instant.
He scanned the field. Just as he'd feared, the inside and outside horses were crowding the middle—inner horses dodging the heavy sand, outer ones cutting in to save distance.
For a middle-gate horse like Pegasus, it meant pressure from both sides.
But Medaima's start was solid—not enough to dominate, but enough to give Ochiai some control early on.
Instead of playing it safe and settling into a forward position, Ochiai leaned in, urging the horse to push harder.
Pegasus responded, picking up speed ahead of schedule.
"And we're off in the third race at Menbie!" the announcer's voice crackled, a beat behind the action. "Ninth-rank Furano's Hikarima stumbles out of the gate. First-rank Raggo leads, with sixth-rank Medaima close behind, pushing for the front!"
Medaima's head bobbed fiercely with Ochiai's rhythm, steam puffing from his nostrils.
As they poured on speed, the gap to Raggo began to shrink.
Before the betting windows had even opened, the ten horses had already spread out.
Ochiai glanced at the pack, then snapped his focus forward.
The situation was clear: in a short sand race, early speed was everything. Unless a horse was far above the rest, a strong start often locked in a good finish.
Right now, Raggo, just behind, was Medaima's biggest threat.
But Ishikawa, Raggo's jockey, seemed to abandon the chase for the lead, shifting slightly outward to trail Pegasus instead.
Noticing the move, Ochiai eased up, and Pegasus slowed without needing a tug on the reins.
His thighs burned, the strain creeping in, and Ochiai shifted his weight to find relief.
From the stands, Kitano stared, a little dazed. All he could make out was a blur of jockeys, their backsides high in the air—an unflattering sight.
No matter how hard he squinted, the speeding shapes offered no real clues.
In a blink, the horses were already rounding the third turn.
Ochiai caught the glint of whips flashing behind him, their cracks cutting through the thunder of hooves.
Raggo, who'd been biding his time, was making a move.
Ochiai clenched his jaw. His thighs screamed, and keeping a steady push was getting tougher.
Gripping the whip tightly, he flicked the reins with one hand, tapping Medaima's ear.
The horse tilted his head, his green earmuffs drooping as if he sensed Raggo pulling level.
Then, without waiting for another signal, Pegasus surged forward.
Ochiai, caught off guard, nearly lost his rhythm but leaned into it, launching into the final straight with an awkward, almost flat posture against the horse's back.
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